


Revelation

by jordieey



Series: Trust Takes Time [5]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Natasha Romanov, Asexuality, Coming Out, F/M, Natasha Romanov Feels, Natasha Romanov Has Issues, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Tony Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Issues, Understanding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:49:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21654031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jordieey/pseuds/jordieey
Summary: Well...this was unexpected.(Or, Natasha comes out as asexual to her...boyfriend).
Relationships: Natasha Romanov/Tony Stark
Series: Trust Takes Time [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/992754
Comments: 6
Kudos: 78





	Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> This is set somewhere in the Trust Takes Time series, although whether it is "canon" (for this series) or AU is up to you. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“What?” Tony said, desperately hoping he’d heard wrong. 

Instead of raising a derisive or mocking eyebrow––like she would have a few years ago––Natasha’s chest visibly expanded as she took a slow breath. She looked uncharastically nervous and really, what the hell was Tony supposed to do with that?

“I’m asexual, Tony,” Natasha repeated, meeting his gaze head on. Because Natasha Romanoff was brave, no matter what the situation was, or how she felt about it. She was braver than Tony, in some ways. 

Fuck, Tony thought. Fuck, fuck, FUCK! What the actual hell?

Tony took a shaky step forward, bracing his hands on the island as he lowered his head. Friday called to him in a worried voice, but Tony brushed her off. He breathed deeply, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the countertop… Because if he looked at Natasha now, Tony feared he’d throw up. 

How many times had he and Natasha had sex since she came back? Too many times for an ordinary person to count. But Tony was a genius and he could calculate that they’d slept together at least––

Fuck.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” Tony ground out.

Tony was an asshole, but not that much of an asshole. If someone expressed that they had little to no desire to sleep with him, he backed off. There were plenty of people willing––he hardly needed to coerce anyone. Which he’d never done. 

He wasn’t delusional––Tony knew that at least some of the people he’d slept with in the past must be asexual. But if they were, they showed no distaste at his advances, gave no indication they didn’t want to. If they had, Tony would have stopped immediately.

Had Natasha been suffering through their many sessions, thinking she couldn’t say no? Was her enthusiasm merely a show for his benefit?

Did she think it was /required/ of her? 

To be fair, Natasha could easily have Tony on his back if he ever did something she didn’t like. Hell, she could probably kill him naked and without a weapon in sight.

And she /had/ said no in the past. Just...not that often. 

A hand on his back. Tony lifted his head, meeting Natasha’s concerned green eyes.

Tony almost jerked away. How many times––in how many ways––had Tony touched Natasha when she didn’t want him to? 

“Breathe, Tony,” Natasha said, the command in her voice obvious. 

Tony did so, feeling a wave of bitterness wash over him. Great. Natasha was the one coming out here, and somehow Tony /still/ managed to make it about himself. Typical.

Natasha guided Tony into one of the chairs situated around the island. She took a seat next to him, sitting so close that her knees brushed his thigh. 

“Look at me.” 

She waited until Tony did so. Taking Tony’s hand into her firm grip, Natasha began to speak. 

“I have only recently discovered that ‘asexual’ is a term that can be applied to humans.” Her eyes pierced into Tony’s own, refusing to let him look away. “I came across it in the past, of course, but it wasn’t until about a month ago that I started to look into it more closely.” Here Natasha's lips turned down, displaying the slightest hint of vulnerability. It must have been hard, showing any kind of weakness. 

Natasha dropped her gaze. 

“I realized that I did not enjoy our activities as much as I believed I should.” When Tony tried to jerk his hand away, Natasha tightened her grip. She glared at him. “None of which,” she said firmly, “was your fault. I was not unwilling. You could hardly force me into something I didn’t want.” A slight smirk appeared on Natasha’s mouth, and Tony found he could breathe a bit easier. 

Damn Cap and his fucking shield. He’d screwed up Tony’s chest even more than it had been before. 

Feeling like he should say something, Tony said, “Okay…”

Becoming serious, Natasha continued, “I have slept with many people––you know that.”

Of course, he did. Natasha was a spy, and unfortunately, when women were spies, their sexuality seemed to be one of their best weapons. Not that Tony was judging, but it sucked that women had to put themselves through that. Especially if they didn’t like it. 

“And so I thought I couldn’t possibly be asexual.” Natasha paused for a moment, pressing her thumb into Tony’s hand, offering comfort. “Kenneth”––their mutual therapist––” was quick to disabuse me of that notion.”

So that’s what her private therapy sessions had been about…

Tony opened his mouth, fully intending to tell Natasha that it was okay––

And then her lips were on his, silencing him. 

When they pulled back, Natasha placed her hand on his neck, right on the pulse point. It was her way of comforting herself, to reassure herself that Tony was alive. She’d been doing it for months, ever since the incident that brought her here in the first place. Using that hand, Natasha pulled him closer, forcing Tony to look her right in the eye. 

“This does not change anything between us. I simply thought you should know.” 

“Doesn’t change anything?” Tony said, pulling his hand away and running it through his hair. He was probably depositing grease in there, given that he’d been down in his shop a mere ten minutes ago. When Natasha asked Friday to direct him to the kitchen, Tony had pictured various scenarios: sexy fun times, Natasha saying she’s had enough of Tony’s bullshit and leaving, a serious look, even a suggestion to call (or otherwise communicate with) Steve fucking Rogers.

He hadn’t been expecting...this. 

“Natasha,” Tony groaned, getting up from his stool and pacing away from her. “Of course this changes things.” He turned to face her. Natasha looked so beautiful, wearing Tony’s TARDIS t-shirt like she had so many times in the past months. Her red hair showed at roots––a stark contrast against the blonde––meaning she would be dying it soon to obtain obscurity. With her midriff showing, Natasha’s scar (the one she’d told him she gotten while being tortured––a hot knife) was displayed. It started just under Natasha’s left rib cage, trailing to the right like the douche had been planning to make an X. It slashed over Natasha’s belly button and ended at her right hip bone, still somewhat puckered. 

Tony hated that scar, even as he admired what it represented: Natasha’s refusal to die. 

How many times had he kissed that scar, trailed his tongue over it? How much did Natasha hate that?

“I’m not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to,” Tony added. He passed a hand over his face, suddenly feeling much, much older. As he pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes (half wanting to block out the world, half wishing Thor or someone would show up and smite him), Tony felt Natasha’s calloused hands grip his wrist. She forced his hand down and when Tony’s eyes opened, she raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

That look said it all: after the Red Room––after Hydra working within SHIELD––very few people could force Natasha to do something she didn’t want to. Least of all him. Natasha never put up with his bullshit. That was one of the reasons Tony liked her so much.

Framing his face with her hands, Natasha used her thumb to wipe some grease from Tony’s cheekbone. 

“You are a very sexual person, Tony, and now that we are––in a relationship, I want to ensure you are...happy.”

There was the slightest hesitation before “relationship,” as though Natasha was unsure about where they stood with each other. It made sense, considering Tony had next to no clue what they were, either. One of the many reasons they were both in therapy. 

What Natasha said was true, though. The playboy thing wasn’t just for show. Tony liked sex. A lot. Maybe he didn’t absolutely /need/ it, but even still, it wasn’t something he would be able to give up easily. 

But for Natasha… And there /were/ alternatives they could discuss. 

Tony said as much, and Natasha looked… Well, he wasn’t sure what she looked like. Skeptical? Hopeful? A combination of both?

Twisting his wrist in her grip, Tony took Natasha’s hand in his own. With his other hand, he cupped the back of her head and kissed her forehead. 

“We’ll figure something out,” Tony murmured, feeling Natasha cautiously lean into his embrace.

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.


End file.
